


The Red Knight and the Red Spear | Mordred x Scathach | Fate/Grand Order

by ShishouIsBestGirl



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Breasts, Cunnilingus, F/F, FGO - Freeform, Fate/Grand Order - Freeform, Girls Kissing, Kissing, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, NSFW, Neck Kissing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShishouIsBestGirl/pseuds/ShishouIsBestGirl
Summary: Starting with a sleepless night of training, the knight of rebellion finds an unexpected warmth in the room of another.





	The Red Knight and the Red Spear | Mordred x Scathach | Fate/Grand Order

Chaldea was silent and cold that late winter night. The halls were chilled with winter air, not properly heated like the rooms each servant resided in. They were long, blank, and, Mordred thought, exceptionally lonely.

She had been one of the first high-ranking summons in that place, the resident Saber of the front lines. It had only been three days since she’d stopped going on missions, but she already felt lethargic and guilty. At night, these feelings only ever grew stronger. It was easy during the day. She could go to the training grounds, scream her lungs out and duel her fellow knights to her heart’s content. It was release. But now, in the dead of night, when she was too emotional to sleep without an immediate goal to motivate her, these halls were Purgatory, her lone bed Hell. She did had one small goal, however, one thing that drove her to get up and roam this limbo. She wanted to reach the battle grounds.

Perhaps it was childish to swing her weapon at empty air so late, but she didn’t care. She knew that was how Chaldea perceived her anyway, in one way or another. Mordred was hot-headed, fiery and full of energy. Usually, anyway. Night seemed an entirely different story, as far as she could gather.

She finally arrived at the small doors leading to each different room. The keypad was lit, but not the lights above the door. She knew from experience that this didn’t matter. The lights only meant that enemies would appear or that the lights would turn on. Mordred didn’t need either of those. She just wanted an escape. As long as the door opened, it didn’t matter to her who waited for her, even if that “who” meant no one.

She took a step into the ember training camp, the artificial soil below her feet stale and stiff. The simulation was no longer updating in real time, so the landscape seeped bitter cold into her skin. She welcomed it. Unzipping her red jacket and tossing it aside next to the door, she let the bite of winter sting her exposed shoulders and muscles. The sensation made her feel awake. Crimson bolts of light sparked around her, and in an instant her sword weighed down her hand.

* * *

Twenty minutes passed in cold, vermillion silence, with every swing of Clarent singing the air around Mordred. She swung laterally, as if to decapitate a man, then up, as though to disarm someone with a loose grip. Unconnected, illogical follow-up after another, she mentally cursed at her surroundings, anger building in her arm. Then, decisively, she channeled that anger into a cascading flame of energy.

**_Clarent…_ **

She turned to the tree line, fully confident the simulator could regenerate the landscape in front of her in minutes. If she could just find the conviction to swing, she could break anything she chose to. She just had to swing.

The light faded and flickered away.

What good would destroying that forest do her? Would that make it easier to sleep? Would that get her back out on the front lines with her master? Would that ease this insufferable loneliness?

No. None of that would happen. She would damage the trees, they’d regenerate in the morning, and no one would ever know. And if there was one thing Mordred hated, it was the erasure of the marks she left on the world.

She lowered her blade, let it fade into spirit form, and turned to leave. It was over. She’d done what she came to do. It hadn’t worked, but she had tried.

She quickly noticed she wasn’t alone. A tall, slim figure stood there, wearing dark slacks and a thick purple jacket. Another front liner, no less. The woman, Scathach, tossed Mordred the red jacket she’d discarded.

“You’ll freeze if you don’t put that on.” She commented. Artificial moonlight reflected in her ruby eyes like a shimmering red mirror. It was then that Mordred once again felt the intense cold of night all around her, and while her legs remained warmed by her loose workout clothes, her exposed midriff and shoulders suddenly felt like they’d been dipped in liquid nitrogen. She quickly slipped on the jacket.

“...thanks.” Mordred, suddenly feeling small and childish again, paced back to the door.

“No heated retort?” The woman asked. Mordred made an attempt to squint, but only came across confused and tired rather than angry.

“Is that all you think I do?” Mordred asked, defensively.

“Not at all.” Scathach’s answer was simple and matter-of-fact. “I’ve witnessed a range of emotions from you. Not all of them are indignant.” She paused. “But this one, I haven’t seen.” Mordred stepped closer, letting her guard down just a bit.

“What do you mean?” She asked, a modicum of offense lingering in her voice. Scathach crossed her arms.

“I mean that I’ve never once seen you stop in the middle of your noble phantasm just to walk away. Or train nearly topless in the blistering cold. Or go anywhere to fight without so much as a grunt.” Mordred looked away, but Scathach closed what little distance remained between them and adjusted her head with a hand. It wasn’t a delicate gesture, but it was tender, as if to express concern for someone she saw as a pupil. “You’re acting depressed.” Mordred closed her eyes and sighed.

“So what?” She grumbled. Turning away, she took two steps before the Lancer’s hand had gripped her wrist to stop her. “What?!” She snapped, barking at Scathach as she turned to face the woman.

“Do you need a place to be?” Scathach asked, concern and care in her voice. Mordred immediately regretted yelling, and her face showed it. The Lancer’s eyes softened when she saw this, and her grip loosened. “You’re welcome in my room. If you want.” Mordred let herself make eye contact again. Eventually, she nodded.

* * *

It hadn’t taken long to get back to the private room. It had taken even less time to get used to the drastic change in temperature between the halls and the heated bedroom. It took still less time than that for the first kiss to be shared between the women who had entered seeking warmth. The cold, but sultry lips drawing Mordred’s in sucked the warmth from her face, built from the blood flow and lightning of her training before. Hoisting the girl onto her and carrying her to the bed, the taller woman held her in one hand while pulling her head in closer with the other. She sat on the bed, leaning back and allowing Mordred to climb down to kiss her neck. The girl had no doubt, Scathach had to be in a similar headspace. Both of them wanted to bridge this gap of loneliness that they felt, even just for a moment.

Mordred unsnapped the buttons of Scathach’s jacket, pulling it apart to reveal a lacy black bra. As soon as the Lancer’s skin met her eyes, moist lips grazed her chin and the woman was kissing her again. Before she knew how to react, Mordred had been flipped onto her back, the zipper of her jacket pulled down and her red bra below exposed. Strong hands reached behind her to unsnap it as Scathach nibbled on her collarbone, and as the bra was tossed aside, Mordred’s right nipple was engulfed by the eager mouth of the other woman. Her fingers gingerly twisted at the other breast, letting the metal zipper of the jacket slide up and down the girl’s skin as she worked.  

The silence maintained, though Mordred’s breath did speed up. Her lips wrapping around the girl’s remaining nipple, three fingers hooked into her mouth and onto her tongue. Pulling saliva with them as the woman lifted her head, she licked her fingertips slowly to taste what she’d retrieved. Clearly, taking the initiative was Scathach’s game. Mordred pulled down her own leggings with one hand, and swiftly the Lancer had taken them off to toss them to the floor. Another kiss, then two, and the feeling of ginger fingers slid down her stomach and below her waist. The touch was colder than she’d expected, but welcome nonetheless. No sooner had their tongues separated had the first finger tip had entered Mordred’s body, exploring the area it had found with tender curiosity.

Scathach slid down Mordred’s muscular chest, lining it with kisses as she let a second digit join the first within the girl. In a moment her dark hair obscured any line of sight she could maintain, but Mordred knew when the woman’s tongue first met her thighs, and when it stopped in the middle of them to taste her. Her heart sped up again, twice as fast as before, and it was only seconds before she was pulling Scathach’s head in closer, shutting her eyes and focusing on nothing but the ecstacy of her touch as her warm breath seeping out of the space between her fingers and lips.

Minutes passed like this, and quickly Mordred found her thighs filling with hot blood. She was getting close, and if this kept up, she wouldn’t last long. She sat up, pulling the woman into her for a kiss and sweetly taking the hand that had been inside her. As she pulled away, Mordred wrapped her mouth around the fingers, sucking them clean and pulling the woman’s hand up to her cheek to warm it.

“Let me.” She spoke the first words since they’d gotten to the room. Scathach nodded, unclasping her bra and laying on her side. As it slid off to reveal her supple breasts, Mordred unzipped and tugged at the slacks, lifting the Lancer’s higher leg in both arms and gingerly kissing her shin as the knee bent in. She let the hot air of her breath warm Scathach’s skin as she caressed her leg, and lining the innermost side of her thigh with her tongue, Mordred took her first taste of the woman’s groin.

She didn’t take her eyes off of Scathach’s except to blink. She breathed through her nose, steady and consistent, and flickered her tongue along the inside of her partner. She reached a hand below her torso to pleasure herself, the heat of the moment going straight to her head. The woman’s body grew more restless and excited with every passing second. Mirroring their situation before, she pushed the fingers of her free hand into Scathach’s body, running her tongue along the outer edge of her pussy as she did so.

Scathach leaned forward, finding purchase on the mattress with her feet and turning her body in the opposite direction, never breaking contact with Mordred’s fingers. Perching herself above the knight’s lips, she bent down, grasping her hand and placing it on her own breast. Mordred felt a sharp change in sensation as her body was pierced again by Scathach’s callused hands, and she leaned deeper into the woman as she felt her do the same. They lay there, each savoring the bliss of the other’s tongue, and melted away the night in ecstacy.

* * *

It was nearly afternoon by the time Mordred finally woke up. She was still naked, lying below the covers on Scathach’s bed. She was alone in the room. She was cold again, this time not from the air, but from the chill of her own melancholy. She was alone again. She sat up, searching the floor for her clothes, only to find it neat and empty. She scanned the room and found the red jacket she’d won there draped over Scathach’s desk chair. There was a note on the seat. Mordred lazily walked over to the chair, feeling exposed and isolated in that room. The feeling didn’t last long.

The note was short, written in neat red calligraphy.

 

**_My room is always open to you._ **

**_Yours, Scathach._ **


End file.
